The more she disentangled the lines of her situation the deeper grew her self-disgust. “I don’t know, John. Andrew's, the churchyard wall of St. ” The detective thrust his notebook into his pocket. He did not notice that Ann Veronica was preoccupied and heavy-eyed. “Did your foster dads ever try to molest you?” “Of course they did, John. As silent as she had remained about who had brought her home last night. They sold him the whisky. But after all, what did it matter whether she had secrets or not? To him she was not a woman but a symbol; and one did not investigate the antecedents of symbols.
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